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Birthday surprise: Blue light special

It seems every time I encounter a monumental birthday, a monumental occurrence occurs, not in the form of presents or surprise parties, but in the form of speeding tickets.

I believe it is indeed true that when a person drives a red car, particularly a convertible, the cops are on the lookout, because I have evidence. Case in point: Shortly after my husband bought me my red convertible Volkswagen Beetle, I got my first speeding ticket on the way to Oxford, Miss., at age 50, again, a monumental age.

Today, while cruising home into my neighborhood in which our family has lived since 1989, I noticed two people who appeared to be police officers on motorcycles, and this was strange. My perception was that they were “after somebody,” and they wanted me to get out of the way.

Being the civil servant that I am, I obliged. But then I noticed they were following me, so I pulled over, having no idea what was going on. In my mind, I was secretly hoping they were going to ask me to help track down an offender.

The first police officer hopped off of his motorcycle and appeared at my window and asked for my driver’s license. It was at that point that I became aware I was not only a part of the problem, I was the focus of the problem. He said, “Do you realize you were going 40 mph in a 25 mile speed zone?”

I said, “No, I did not realize I was speeding — I have lived in this neighborhood since 1989 and my house is right down the street. But if you say I was speeding, I admit it and I am sorry.”

“Do you have a driver’s license?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. And I gave it to him.

“May I see your car insurance card?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

And I gave it to him.

May I see your vehicle registration card?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. And I gave it to him.

Meanwhile, he went back to the other motorcycle partner and I knew I was doomed, as an old blonde who would turn 55 years old on July 29, 2013, Lord willing.

Young blondes can sometimes get away with speeding tickets, but old blondes cannot, unless they are dressed to the nines and wearing red lipstick. Still at that, the possibilities are remote.

At this point in my life I do not beg forgiveness when I get a speeding ticket. Instead, I relent and apologize because I do not wish to go to jail. Also, my inner voice tells me to keep my mouth shut at all costs.

And so it happened: I was given a speeding ticket and told what to do, as if I did not know the routine. The first police officer was professional and he was merely doing his job, I suppose.

But then the other police officer approached me while I was still sitting in the driver’s side and he asked, “When you saw us with our blue lights on, why did you not pull over?”

I said, “Honestly, I have never seen police officers on motorcycles in this neighborhood. I thought you were hastening me to get out of the way — I thought you were looking for someone — I just had no idea it was me. I’m very sorry.”

He looked at me suspiciously and asked, “Do you have a job?”

I said, “I am a retired teacher from Maury County Public Schools. I taught school for 30 years.”

Not only did this fail to impress him, it seemed to concern him.

This is not a huge problem, but it concerns me on many levels. Aside from getting another speeding ticket at the near age of 55, the song “I Can’t Drive 55” has been stuck in my head for an entire week.

It seems I can drive 55, and I pay a price for it.

Also, when I recently received notification in the mail that it was time to renew my driver’s license, I went through the process online, complete with credit card payment, and yet I did not receive a confirmation. When I got my ticket today, I asked the first police officer what I needed to do in regard to this situation. He said, “I’d call first. It’s probably just lost in the mail.”

Such a comfort.

Regardless of the speeding ticket at age 55, and regardless of my “lost-in-the-mail” renewed driver’s license, this is small potatoes.

I’m just happy to be here, and I plan to slow down and stick around as long as I can.

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